Our Funny, Traveling Tale!
by nauticaas
Summary: Brook meets several familiar voices at a blackout concert at Thriller Barque Concert Hall one night; the problem is, he doesn't know their names and in the dark, he didn't even catch a glimpse of their faces! The intrepid aspiring musician decides that this is unacceptable and makes a quest out of discovering his mystery chorus' identities in the great city of Granligna. AU.


**Author's Note**: What to say about this story? Hm, well, I've been meaning to try out a modern take on the Straw Hats, but my imagination ran wild and so I ended up expanding that alternate universe from my drafts and from Sanji's birthday fic. I know I said that I would post it after _Give and Take_ was completed, and I will (maybe) but think of this as a precursor to that story.

* * *

Brook was heading up the left wing stairs toward the exit when the power went out in the Thriller Barque Concert Hall, leaving the patrons stranded in the middle of the auditorium in pitch black darkness.

As though a cue had been given, several screams rang out across the room while everyone tried to figure out what was going on, and between the moments when the lights went out and the venue owner came out to calm the panicked audience, he found himself nearly trampled by a large group who had lost their patience. Luckily, someone grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and pulled him out of the aisle, but when he turned around to thank them, the mysterious person had already disappeared into the throng still standing in the arena. At any rate, it was safer in there than out in the aisles where the crowd struggled to get to the doors.

It didn't take long for the owner of the concert hall, a thickset gentleman with sharp, pointed features, to assure everyone that the cause of the blackout was currently being taken care of. Nothing more than a short circuit in the main power grid, but because of the oncoming electrical storm, the next show scheduled for that evening would be cancelled. He would happily provide all of his patrons either a refund or credit to use on one of the upcoming concerts at any of the Floriané venues in the Granligna area, and he hoped to see them back again soon. As he said this, the proprietor's gaze landed on Brook just when the emergency lights went on, and he felt a feeling of déjà vu wash over him.

A name flashed through his mind, and with it the concern that he should glance back to make sure his shadow was still there (it was). That sort of fleeting thought had been more common when he was younger, but he didn't find it odd in the slightest. In fact, he took comfort in the constancy of his strange whims: sing in the face of fear; always check for a shadow; when in doubt, use polite terms of address and look to the sun. It didn't occur to him that other people might not have their own flights of fancy and peculiar habits like his.

Nevertheless, he looked back, and his shadow was faint but firmly fixed to his heels, so he settled back in his seat to watch the ushers guide the disgruntled patrons out of the hall in small groups. He would have been content to wait patiently for his turn, but the blackout had left some people shaken and trembling as the lights had yet to come back on. Brook never liked to see anyone look so alone and scared, and since he was around he decided that this audience deserved to learn the little trick he used to keep his own fears at bay.

The climb onto the stage was somewhat awkward and clumsy because for the life of him, he just couldn't figure out where the stairs were, even with the dim emergency lights on. He managed to make it to the grand piano on the left side of the stage without tripping over anything and seated himself at the bench as though he was meant to be here. If they decided to kick him out for this, that was fine by him; he just wanted to make music, after all. Even if only one person found comfort in his song, then it would have been worth it.

Several tunes and melodies ran through his mind, but none of them seemed fitting. That nostalgic feeling was back, the one that always, always overwhelmed him whenever he set out to play a song. It was why his guardian had forced him to stop taking music lessons a while back, but Brook always found his way back to his first love anyway. There was no taking the music out of his heart, he would tell Yorki, who would laugh and agree that it seemed he was fighting a losing battle with the boy's eccentric character.

While he was lazily going down a basic chord, oblivious to the stares he was getting from the audience that remained in the seats, Brook let his fingers wander across the keys, and a song that he had never played before yet sounded so familiar drifted up from his piano, starting off soft and building up into a crescendo that filled the stage like a glowing light. He nodded his head to the light, bouncy tune and soon began to hum along before the words had even formed in his mind.

_"…yo-hohoho, yo-hohoho! Yo-hohoho, yo-hohoho!"_ There was already a smile on his face, and he had just started singing. He honestly had no idea what this song was called or if he was just making it up on the spot, but it was certainly making him feel a lot better about the shadow fear and the gecko-like owner (who had fortunately left the room when Brook decided to take over the stage). "_Far across the salty depths; the merry evening sun!"_

It made him think of a lionhearted ship crossing the deepest, bluest, most incredible ocean that he could imagine; the thrill of adventure and new, undiscovered sights made him grin all the wider, but it was when he started to remember old, forgotten bonds and friendships that his chest filled with a warmth that he just couldn't explain. _I miss them_, he thought, and he wondered who it was that he was missing in the first place.

If he had been able to look out into the dark auditorium he would have seen a smile on the faces of the remaining audience members, but he was so focused on the song and his misplaced memories that it took him until the next stanza to realize that someone else was singing with him.

His accompaniment's voice was loud and powerful, and he had such an unmistakably marvelous range that Brook would not forget in the coming months of his search, filling the auditorium with _"-a DON! As the ship sets sail!"_

Another voice had joined in right afterwards, sweet and low to support their stronger harmony; it was definitely a female voice, followed by two other younger sounding males who began to sing around the part where the pirates in the song were flying their Jolly Roger proudly. One from among the chorus of voices that had started singing with him screeched out the words _"flying the proud skull on our flag and on our sails!", _at which point everyone stopped for a moment to laugh and echo his enthusiasm.

There came a point when the song's lyrics became a little sadder, and that was when he heard the heartbreaking, melancholy voice hiding in the undertones of the song's otherwise cheerful melody; he remembered a time when he had felt as lonely and sad as that voice sounded, and he almost got up right there and then to go comfort that person. It was only the urgency he felt to finish the song that kept him in place at the piano, knowing that they would all be made to leave the auditorium soon. He wanted to be able to sing with them and to see their faces in the light from the lobby before they parted ways.

Brook and his chorus continued singing until the ushers led them away, one by one, and his quartet dwindled down to a trio, then a duo, until he was the only one left in the concert hall with the slowly fading tune still echoing in the air. He rested his hands in his lap, reflecting on the strange phenomenon that was still ebbing away even as he sat there, but instead of feeling forlorn or dejected he felt a sense of purpose that only came with the dawn of a new goal.

The proprietor came across him as he walked through the empty lobby, and though Brook felt that same whim to check on his shadow, he didn't allow himself to succumb to the wariness that the man's presence inspired. Humming his made-up tune, he strolled past the owner with a smile and ignored his fearful glare as he reached for the door. The more immediate concern on his mind was the impromptu chorus that had just vanished into the city's peaceful evening. He wanted nothing more than to find those voices and figure out why they had all seemed so familiar, and why they had known the words to a song that hadn't existed until that night.

As he stepped out into the slowly encroaching twilight on the street, wondering if he would be able to succeed in his mission, Brook quietly hummed a few lonely bars from one of the song's stanzas:

_Waving our goodbyes, we'll never meet again!_


End file.
